


Get outta my dreams (get into my car)

by alessandralee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What your father doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Lydia says from her spot lying on Allison’s bed.</p><p>--</p><p>It's summer break and Lydia is visiting Allison in France for a road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get outta my dreams (get into my car)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash Trope Bingo (Roadtrip) and also Allison Argent Femslash Week (AU Day).

“What your father doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Lydia says from her spot lying on Allison’s bed.

For a moment, Allison wonders if Lydia intended for that to come out as suggestively as it did. Then she remembers that Lydia is as good at using her feminine wiles to get what she wants as she in at using logic. She knows exactly what she’s doing, peering up at Allison through long lashes.

It almost works, too.

But Allison vividly remembers that time Scott let Lydia drive his car upstate to go apple picking. There’s no way she’s letting someone that easily distracted drive her around a country she’s never been in before.

She’s not that blunt about it, though.

“Lydia, we’re in France,” she beings. “That means the road signs are in French, and you don’t speak French. I do.”

“And you’ll be right there in the passenger seat to translate for me. It’s not like I have to drive on the left side of the road or anything,” Lydia argues. “Besides, I’ve spent the last two months learning plenty of helpful French phrases.”

Allison knows this; she’s been helping her practice, first in their apartment during the last month of classes, and then over Skype when Allison returned to France for summer break. But most of Lydia’s useful phrases are for stuff like finding a bathroom and ordering more wine. Those aren’t exactly applicable in this situation.

Lydia Martin is stubborn, though, and Allison hopes that if she gets her girlfriend’s mind off of this now, she won’t bring it up again until she’s already seated in the passenger seat. After that, all Allison has to do is make sure she gets back in the car first when they stop for breaks.

Luckily, it’s not hard for Allison to think of the perfect distraction.

She gets up from her desk chair and lies on the bed so she’s facing Lydia. Slowly, she kisses Lydia on the lips.

“Why don’t we practice some of those other French phrases you’ve been working on,” she says in a tone she hopes matches Lydia’s from earlier. She’s not as good at suggestive as Lydia is, generally preferring the more direct route of ‘I’d like to rip your clothes off now, please,’ but that might be a little too obvious right now.

Lydia easily picks up on the fact that she’s not referring to anything like ‘How do I get to the nearest metro station?’

“Il y a une fete dans mon slip et je t’ye invite,” Lydia says in passably decent French.

Allison holds back a giggle. Clearly Lydia’s been getting her sexy French vocab lessons from Stiles, because he’s the only one who would think ‘There’s a party in my pants and you’re invited,’ has any potential.

Still, Allison finds Lydia sexy even when she sounds like Stiles, who is pretty much the opposite of sexy, as far as she’s concerned. She leans in again for another kiss, deepening it, and running her hand up Lydia’s bare thigh. They’ve got an hour until they have to leave for a big family dinner at Allison’s cousin’s house and she intends to make the most of that time.

\--

“If we get married, could I get French citizenship?” Lydia turns down the music blaring through the car to ask.

If Allison didn’t have better self-control, she’d be at a serious risk of running the car off the road due to surprise.

“I don’t even have French citizenship,” she eventually manages to reply, although the strain is evident in her voice.

Lydia smiles and shrugs like she doesn’t notice the effect of her statement on Allison, “It’s so beautiful here, I just wanted to know my options. Don’t worry,” she leans off to path Allison sympathetically on the shoulder, “I don’t plan on proposing any time soon.”

Allison laughs and a large part of her is relieved. She’s only twenty and, as great as things are with Lydia, marriage is pretty much the furthest thing from her mind. She still needs to finish her degree, get a job, and find a place to live (preferably one that doesn’t include six roommates like her current living arrangement does) before she would feel comfortable so much as thinking about marriage.

She figures there could be worse ways to live than with Lydia in a small house in a small French town. Although she’s having a hard time picturing Lydia living anywhere that doesn’t move at a breakneck pace. She really loves hustle and bustle.

“Your grandmother hates me, though,” Lydia says absently, like it doesn’t bother her. Allison knows better, though. If Lydia had her way, she’d be loved by all. Or at least envied.

“Grand-mère is actually my great-grandmother, and she hates everyone,” Allison reassures her. “At least any American who isn’t a blood relative. According to my dad, she’s still bitter about her son getting married and leaving the country, and it’s been over fifty years.”

“Talk about holding a grudge,” Lydia rolls her she fishes her cell phone out of her bag. They’ve already passed five identical farm pastures, but Lydia takes photos of all of them.

“She hated my mom, too,” Allison admits quietly.

Abruptly, Lydia drops the phone in her lap and turns to face Allison. She knows how rare it is for Allison to talk about her mother.

“What a bitch,” Lydia raises her nose in disgust.

“Whenever my father flies out to visit, she tries to set him up with local women,” Allison tells her. “She even did it when my mom was still alive. That’s why we never visited much.”

Lydia chuckles at this, “I assume she wasn’t very successful.”

Moving to New York for college was an easy decision for Allison. She wanted to go back to the country she few up in, even if she was raised on the opposite coast. But New York City is where her parents met, when her father was there on family business. Getting accepted to Columbia, he mother’s alma mater, had been a dream. Getting away from her overbearing grand-mère and her snide comments about Allison’s mom was icing on the cake.

Meeting Lydia was a blessing.

“I’m not sure I want to come back here after graduation,” Allison admits.

Actually, she’s nearly positive that she doesn’t want to. Of course, that doesn’t mean she has a single clue about what she does want to do. With less than two years until graduation, the future is looming ominously.

“That’s good,” Lydia leans over to peck Allison on the check. “There are plenty of good universities in France, but even with two years of practice, I don’t think I could do an entire PhD program in French. Latin maybe, but that doesn’t matter.”

Allison’s dad once referred to her girlfriend as Hurricane Lydia. And most of the time Allison’s happy to get swept up in her plans. She knows that, wherever Lydia ends up, there will be a space for her too.

“I was thinking maybe Berkley,” Lydia continues. “Columbia has a great program, but I want a change of scenery. Maybe Yale, or even Oxford. I could definitely leave the country for England.”

As Lydia continues to discuss her grad school plans, Allison can’t help by feel lucky she gets to come along for the ride.


End file.
